The Little Giant Called Thor
by Alphabet54
Summary: Thor's life in the mountains as a little boy.


The Little Giant Called Thor

Thor was born and raised in the mountains of Northern Tortall. He was a child of the gales and rains, of bottomless lakes and mountains so high that they were thought to touch the sky. Life in the mountains was thick with folk lore and fairy stories.In a place where the hills had cloaks of fog and tempers of winds it's no wonder that even the old cynics of the mountain still bowed to a culture of superstition and mystery.

Immortal witches and goblins were said to hide in the numerous caves, coming out in the night to steal the senses of sight and hearing that they treasured above all things. They stole senses so that when they were forced to hide in the day they could see through the eyes of the blind and ears of the deaf.

The old trees at the edge of the bottomless lake were said to be able to move, at night their long gnarled and arthritic fingers, that seemed harmless branches in the day would comb the grasslands and slopes for little children to gobble and gulp. Mermen were said to inhabit the bottomless lake, strange blue creatures that sang like the heavens and could imitate any voice so as to lure unsuspecting people into the lake. People in the North felt differently about their mysteries. Some who were not born into the mountains would merely scoff.

'Yes,' Thor's father would say to an incoming traveller, 'the mountains are a dangerous place. There are storms here that could rip houses to shreds. In winter the fog comes down so quickly that your stranded in less than three minutes. People die of frostbite and some disappear because they've got lost and died up on a forgotten path but nobody gets eaten by witches or abducted by mermen I can assure you. ' He would laugh at the other men crossing themselves when they heard voices crying and echoing around the hills. 'It's only the wind' he said.

Thor's father, Jonathan was the richest man in the village. First coming to the mountains looking for work as a blacksmith he had climbed his way up and now owned the local inn. He was a handsome man, city bred with a real education that often caused him to look down at some of the other inhabitants of the village. However despite some of his pretensions he was fair and just and though all might not like him he was well respected.

Thor and his family now lived in the inn, his father had long given up his detested job of village blacksmith as he now owned a thriving business. The inn combined a strange mixture of local drinkers and strange visitors, often smugglers who used the locals as guides through the treacherous mountain paths into Scanra. This combination of local and stranger could often prove quite dangerous, especially after three pints of strong ale. So Thor grew up accustomed to the occasional tavern brawl and frequent drunken ramblings.

Jonathondisapproved of Thor staying up in the inn, but his mother was firm on this point. 'Not all things are learnt from books John,' she'd say filling up glasses at tables.

'Well I don't see that he's going to learn much here,' said John, 'He's growing up fast. We should send him away to Corus, get him a proper education unless we want him to end up a bum like these lot.' This remark produced a few groggy glares from the men deep in their drinks but as it was late and most of them were too drunk they decided to let it go.

'My boy is not leaving the mountains,' said Maggie her green eyes flashing, 'he'll be off travelling soon enough but for now you'll not take him away from home.' John looked about to answer when Maggie fixed him with an unblinking stare. 'You're not to take him away. Aye?'

John let it go 'Aye,' he said a smile touched his face as he adopted her way of speech, offering a truce. Maggie smiled back at him and kissed her husband on the cheek and walked away to fill another rapidly emptying cup.

Maggie was as some said as different from John as sunshine was to rain. Born and bred in the mountains Maggie had grown up to be the cunning lady of the village. People often went to her when they were in trouble. John would often tease Maggie about the way all the villages seemed to honour her.

'Cunning woman,' he would say 'just because you're the only woman in this village who can think clearly.'

'Clear thinking is a way of cunning,' she'd reply.

Jonathonsmiled,indulging her, his wife was full of slightly strange notions, living here all her life it was impossible for her not to be superstitious. Usually he couldn't stand that sort of nonsense but somehow when Maggie spoke about the mysteries it just made her more dear to him. One thing was for certain though, he never let his son believe in the superstitions of the mountains. Jon was often very strict with Thor, and if he caught him saying the nursery rhymes to the old gods or making the evil eye whenever he went past a cave he would give him the strap. But no matter what his Pa said, Thor knew that there was magic in the mountains, for one thing his mother believed in it and Thor knew his mother was special.

It wasn't just the way that people would come to her when they were sick or that she could tell him all the old folklore of the mountains. That had just been a part of his mother, it was normal. Thor realised his mother was special one day when he was on the high mountain when the fog came down. He was about seven and playing hide and seek with some other children. Thor was always the best at hide and seek though he was the largest of the children he played with (his size earning the nickname little giant before he was even ten) the hills and valleys always seemed to come up with hiding places for him.

That day he was hiding in the crippled grove, a place quite high up where the mountain softened into a gentle dip again before it formed a high peak. It was called the crippled grove because the plain faced the harsh north wind and the trees that grew their had been so harassed by the storms that slowly over the years they had bent and started to grow sideways and spread horizontally rather than vertically. This created a low dense forest that was perfect cover for a child that was willing to get their knees and hands muddy. It was one of Thor's favourite hiding places, other children were scared of the grove and so Thor often felt that it was this part of the mountains was his alone.

On this occasion Thor had been crouching there for two hours, stubbornly unwilling to show himself until the others gave up looking. He had been in the grove patiently sitting and playing with the ants and bugs that were crawling in the undergrowth when gradually he began to notice that the air had changed and turned cold and humid. Thor, young as he was, knew the sign of gathering fog and he scrambled as fast as he could to the edge of the grove cutting his hands and twisting his ankle quite badly in his efforts to get home quick. When he got to the end of the grove he realised with a dull horror that it was already too late. The fog was rolling in fast and he knew that in less that two minutes he would be blind on the mountains. There was no way he would get home in two minutes and so rather than be stranded on the paths he knew he have to stay where he was.

Thor was not a timid child, his father had taught him bravery and his mother had taught him to understand rather than fear. However faced with the situation of staying alone on the mountain for a whole night he felt extremely afraid. Nobody walked round the mountains at night and definitely nobody stayed the night out.

Despite all Thor's fathers assurances, odd things did happen on the mountains, people disappeared and sometimes in early mornings would find animal carcasses stripped bare on the path. Thor's Pa would say that it was wild animals or simply a practical joke but everybody else in the village would take them to Maggie to have them burned.

Deciding to make the crippled grove his refuge he went back to the entrance to his forest and touched the thickest of all the twisted trunks. 'Keep me safe,' he ordered. Ma had always told him that you had to tell things to be obeyed in the mountains.

'Asking's no good.' She'd once said laughing as Thor had pled with their donkey to help move a wagon, 'Why's anything going to mind you if you whimper and beg. What's your worth to them then? Nay, you have to order, good steady voice and make sure they know that you're strong. That's the way to make them mind you.'

Thor at the time had thought this was good advice, the donkey had moved once Thor and Maggie had ordered it too, and why couldn't the same apply to the grove. The magic in the mountains would mind Thor if he told it too. After touching and issuing the repetitive order to several of the trunks around the big entrance he was satisfied with his protection spell and entered into the grove. It was darker now and yet surprisingly clear as the fog merely hovered over the trees and didn't swarm into it. After checking for ants and stingers Thor settled on a soft patch of moss to lie on and wait.

It was soon very dark and Thor after waving his hand in front of his nose had to admit that he couldn't see a thing, and in the absence of seeing Thor felt his other senses come alive. He felt like he could here the grove breathing although he knew that it was just the slight breeze through the branches. The night was surprisingly warm and even the fog's chill wasn't as bad as Thor thought it would be at night. Then suddenly everything went quiet. Not as though the sounds of the forest had stopped, just that he had stopped hearing them. It was like when Thor had tried to swim to the bottom of the bottomless lake and when he had come up all the noise was gone and all he could here was the water in his ears. Now he heard nothing.


End file.
